The Monster that Caused This
by Sylvr
Summary: This is a oneshot from 'Batman: Black and White' about Batman and a train wreck. It has some pretty obvious symbolism. It's my first fanfic, so please review!


**THE MONSTER WHO CAUSED THIS**

**Disclamer: Unfortunately, Batman is not mine. Neither is Gordon. Please excuse me while I go rant at a world cruel enough to give Batman to DC and not to me.**

**A/N This story is essentially derived from the Batman comic _Batman:Black and White_. I really liked the story, but I wondered more about what happened afterwards and what the characters thought about things, so I wrote a fanfic.**

Commissioner James Gordon looked bleakly around at the site of the wreck. For some yet unknown reason one of Gotham's massive subway trains had gone careening off its track, which was why Gordon was here. He grimaced as he surveyed the shadowy hulks of the train cars and the smaller lumps he recognized as twisted scraps of metal and luggage that had been thrown free as the train slammed into one of the walls of the subway tunnel. There were no bodies among the wreckage, only masking tape outlines—ambulances had taken the dead and wounded to hospitals. Gordon peered at the train's engine, trying to detect any sign of sabotage, which proved impossible in the dim lighting of the tunnel.

_"Someone get some lights set up!", _he bellowed.

"Here," a deep voice said quietly from behind him as a spotlight shone on the section of train in front of him. "Use this."

Gordon whirled around and glowered at the shadowy form that stood there. "How did you—nevermind." he said as he accepted the flashlight offered in a black-gloved hand. "Nice to have you, Batman." He glanced at the flashlight and noticed the GPD symbol emblazoned on the side. "Hey, this is police property!"

The nightmarish figure nodded in acknowledgment as he stepped into better lighting.

"I know. I grabbed it on my way in—I knew you wouldn't have lights set up yet."

Gordon had a sneaking suspicion that whoever owner of the flashlight was wasn't even aware that it had been "borrowed". He'd figure out who it was later and return it to them.

Batman's icy gaze swept the wreck. The Commissioner was watching his face closely—or what he could see of it through the mask, anyways-- and still almost missed the slight tightening of muscles in anger as the vigilante studied the crash. It was gone almost as quickly as it had appeared, and Gordon felt a tiny flash of fear—and he pitied whoever had caused the wreck, as much as he could pity anyone monster enough to kill this many people. If, that is, it had been sabotage at all.

Batman bent down near one of the rails and picked something up off the ground. Gordon couldn't see what it was, but it must have been enough for Batman, because he leaped into a side passage and into another, darker tunnel without a word of explanation. Gordon grinned.

"Where's he goin', Chief?" a junior officer asked.

Gordon answered without turning around.

"He's going to find the monster that caused this, Bob."

Batman ran silently down the tunnel. All his senses were alert for the slightest sound, the smallest sign. There! a drop of blood on the stonework, near the left wall of the tunnel. His quarry was wounded. He studied the splatter pattern. He'd been going forwards, then. A couple feet ahead where the tunnel split there was another splotch, this one on the right side, with a scuff mark on the floor next to it. Rubber sneakers, and at least two injuries on opposite sides of the body.

He continued down the tunnel.

After three more turns he spotted light. An access shaft to the surface, with a ladder. There, at the base of the ladder was another scuff mark, and a drop of blood on the sixth rung. He climbed the ladder and emerged into the dim lighting of Gotham's night. A group of bums stood gathered around a barrel with a fire in it, and a fire escape rose to a rooftop on his right. A trestle shook overhead as a train roared by, disguising the noise he made as he replaced the manhole cover and straightened. He took a few steps forwards, peering at the ground, and one of the bums spotted him. He shrieked something along the lines of "Batman! Run!", though it was somewhat garbled due to the unseemly amounts of liquor in his system. The bum immediately followed his own suggestion, and the others must have understood him, because they were hot on his heels. The Dark Knight ignored them, still searching for tracks. He found several marks leading to the trestle, and up a ladder to a catwalk. The quarry had traveled only as far as the next ladder down.

The blood marks were more frequent now, the trail easier to follow. It led him to an abandoned construction site littered with concrete pipes and surrounded by a battered chain link fence. Batman allowed himself a smile, just a little one, for a brief second. He climbed the fence into the site, his cloak drifting eerily behind him. He dropped to the ground silently and walked to a pipe at the bottom of a pile. He crouched to look inside at the silhouette curled hidden inside it.

"It's okay. I found you, you're fine. You're okay." he said soothingly, extending his hands to the crying boy huddled in the pipe. The boy sobbed, but crawled forwards to Batman, his sneakers squeaking as they rubbed on the concrete, and the Dark Knight picked him up and cradled him in his arms.

"You're alright now," he whispered to the weeping boy. "I know just what it's like to be a lost child."

Gordon watched as his cops searched the wreck, tossing the flashlight Batman had given him up and down. The vigilante had been gone for the better part of an hour now. He was uncertain why he had left in the first place—all the evidence so far pointed to and accident, not sabotage. Unless they'd really missed something--

Batman stepped from the shadows right in front of Gordon, who started in surprise. Something looked odd about the Dark Knight, like he had something bulky strapped to his chest under his cape.

"Gordon." the vigilante said by way of greeting. "I need you to find his nearest relative."

"Who's nearest relative?" the Commissioner asked, confused.

"His," he replied and drew back his cape to reveal the six-year-old boy nestled in his arms. "He says his parents were killed."


End file.
